STYLES | h.e.s

2

"Excuse me?" Asked the editor-in-chief of Styles Magazine.

There was no way Eliza said that out loud. She would never, ever curse from shock in front of a person with such personage. She wouldn't even consider it.

But, she really just did that.

Though to Eliza the floor is beginning to melt and her feet are beginning to drown her into the ground, the world outside keeps rotating. Poppy glances between Eliza and Harry Styles in fretfulness. More so Eliza questioning, speculating when she is going to speak again. If she can speak again.

And here stands Mister Styles. Proper, poised, and surveying Eliza. A mix of confusion with impatience gauzing his facial expressions. Unlike Eliza who is having a difficult time in remembering how to communicate.

"Eliza?" Poppy softly whispers from behind her in hopes to grab her attention back from wherever she is.

"I erm," Eliza quivers in humiliation. Face flushed pink from the mortifying experience. She really hopes she remembered to wear her deodorant before walking out the door this morning. Hoping that nobody can tell her armpits are beginning to sweat excessively. All of the sudden, Eliza does not enjoy having eyes on her.

"Tomlinson," Mister Styles huffs with his unwillingness to be waiting around any longer sweeping through his tone. "Where is he?"

Gathering herself, Eliza's conscious reaches for her ankles that are floating through the room's ceiling and tugs her back down. Recollecting herself and feeling her hands tic with her lungs pushing out a big breath of air she keeps tucked away. Her hands move to her waist then slides them down along her figure making sure her ensemble is still on. Because she would hate for this to be another dream when she shows up to work naked; Again.

"Mister Tomlinson is currently busy with work." Eliza finally answers. Her voice meek, not correctly voicing her vocal chords as she does. Why does she suddenly feel so small?

This is only just a man. A man who is related to her greatest idol, that is.

Mister Styles turning to his side stops himself from fully turning the opposite direction. His hand motions towards the closer double doors as he orders, "Well go get him. And tell him I am here to see him."

Bother Mister Tomlinson? The double doors are closed though. Both assistants were specifically told that when those doors are shut, they are only to open from the inside.

To a man such as Harry Styles however, no door is locked. Every door will open and he will walk through it. Eliza thinks to herself while keeping her orbs upon him that if a person with such power to their name tells them to do something-they better do it. And she can tell Mister Styles is not one to deny in his abilities.

Turning on her shoe, she gives Poppy a look that screams how she doesn't want to lose her job because Mister Styles asked her to do something they have been told countless times before not to do. Poppy returns a look back that retorts that if she isn't fired by Mister Styles, then she will surely be fired by Mister Tomlinson for disrupting him. Either way, both assistants are in for it.

Walking towards the double doors, Eliza places her open palms on top of the glass door and opens them inwards. They glide open for her to stand at the threshold with the doors remaining in place on the sides. Mister Tomlinson stands behind his desk with a hand in his pocket and his phone to his ear as he looks over the side of the building from the large window. Firm in his stance does he talk into the phone but notices the sudden reflection along the window along with his. And he would never misinterpret the woman who stands behind him in his office.